He led her to the sofa, where they could share the view of the Space Needle and the city lights dotting the skyline.

“No, I have a place in Asheville, close to the Biltmore.”

She remembered him telling her he was staying at the Biltmore. “You’re weren’t at the Biltmore, then?”

“Actually, I was. My place was being decorated for Christmas. And all those music boxes are in my home. You’ll get to see it soon, I hope.”

This man was totally out of this world. Easy to be with, and they’d barely kissed.

“If I stay a second longer, Evelyn might fly off in the chopper, and I’ll be in big trouble. I’ll leave, but I’ll be back to take you to Dad’s for dinner.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her so that they were eye to eye, then he kissed her, so gently, slowly, that spirals of desire went racing through her body. Then he lowered her back to the ground. He took a deep breath, and said, “You’re perfect for me, Lauren.”

She just stood there, drugged with desire, and stared up at him. All she could say was, “Me too.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, and gave her another kiss, though this time on her cheek.

“I’ll be here,” was all she said as she watched him leave through the steel door.

She literally dropped down onto the cushy sofa, closed her eyes, and admitted to herself that even though she’d just met this handsome, kind, sexy man and barely knew him, what she did know for certain was that she was head over heels in love with him.

She could have spent hours thinking about John and staring out at the view, but she wanted to type up her notes about her experience with Mr. G while it was still fresh in her mind. She’d leave out the part about her falling in love with his son, and especially his kisses.

Wanting to slip into comfortable clothes, she went to the master bedroom. She’d pulled her luggage into the walk-in closet to keep it out of sight. She switched on the light and saw that her Chanel suit was hanging up, and her Stuart Weitzman pumps were sparkling like Dorothy’s red slippers. On a shelf were her cleaned stockings and underclothes, neatly folded beside them. “Unreal.” She found her leggings and University of Florida sweatshirt still inside her luggage. She slipped out of the borrowed clothes, hung the dress next to her Chanel dress, kept the underclothes on, but took off the stockings and the borrowed shoes, which were a bit small but had certainly saved the day.